


The Secrets of Our Hearts

by OldShrewsburyian



Series: Dangerous Ends [1]
Category: The Hour
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Gen, Music, Oxford, Prayer, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, and the lack thereof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 10:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldShrewsburyian/pseuds/OldShrewsburyian
Summary: Bel sits in a hospital waiting room. Written in response to the prompt "Bel Rowley and religion." I don't consciously try to write about intense suffering all the time, believe it or not.





	The Secrets of Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kivrin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin/gifts).



Bel closes her eyes, and tries to think, and tries to pray. But she finds only images of Freddie. Freddie of the cocky stride and boyish run. Freddie, who never wants to be rescued. Freddie, who can’t leave well enough alone. Freddie, whose eyes light with excitement, and darken with desire. Freddie, who quotes philosophers and reads James Bond. Freddie, whose voice always gives away his feelings. Freddie, who is impossible. Freddie, gasping for air. Freddie, who loves her. Freddie, whom she loves.

She shudders. She cannot allow her mind to dwell on him, the man who is now a broken body. Isabel, say your prayers. The maternal injunction had always been code for something else. For _stop asking questions_ , for _stop reading your book_ , for _stop watching the role I play with this man._

Her prayers, too, had always meant something else than the words she mouthed. _Thy kingdom come_ always meant: make my world different. And what meaning can those words have here, in this room that smells of disinfectant and despair? _Deliver us from evil_ , at least, makes sense; but to make that plea seems worse than useless, now.

She presses a handkerchief against her eyes, breathes deeply against the threat of nausea. _Kommt, ihr Töchter, helft mir klagen…_ She sees again, in her mind’s eye, the windows in the college chapel: Adam and Eve after the fall. That much she understands—the lovers designed for each other, divided from each other, exhausted, all their tenderness unavailing. She feels again the weight of Purcell in her mouth. _Deliver us not into the bitter pains, the bitter pains; deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death._

“Miss Rowley?” says the hospital attendant, and she stands up.

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic, I've placed Bel in the University College choir; this is the Univ chapel window alluded to: https://www.univ.ox.ac.uk/content/chapel-0. 
> 
> The pieces Bel remembers singing (as a soprano) are Bach's _Matthäuspassion_ , BWV 244, and Purcell's _Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary_ , Z. 860. The relevant Bach chorus is here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBPdPOy54jg) and the Purcell in its entirety is here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aPhVoxFqxA).


End file.
